


you're a symphony (i'm just a sour note)

by jasonsmclean



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Band Fic, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Musicians, Mutual Pining, the fic where my musical experience meets guilty pleasure, yes there will sex in here don't freak out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-02-16 00:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18680050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasonsmclean/pseuds/jasonsmclean
Summary: Before Jason can babble her ear off, Piper holds up a hand. He stops talking and knows she’s about to reject his offer and then he’d have to face embarrassment. He’s a stranger, an enemy in a way since he’s just another classical musician, but her eyes twinkle and she says gently, “If you’re willing, I accept.”“You do?” His voice sounds like it’s miles away.“Annabeth would kill me if I quit or if I held the symphony back. So my answer is yes. When do we start?”Musicians AU





	1. electrified by your side

**Author's Note:**

> It's a friends with benefits fic, so expect sex, friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy in this haze of mine  
>  This daze ain't leaving**

The room is filled with noise, the sound of string instruments being played consuming all other sounds. There’s the occasional shuffling of sheet music, or the frustrated sigh, and whispers lie just beneath the peaceful hum of music. It’s a comforting loudness, one that would soothe over any stressed soul.

Once the clock hits six, silence takes over the once pleasantly noisy room. It’s almost ominous, the hearing equivalent of watching clouds cover the sun. A hush falls over the musicians, putting their instruments in resting position, their expectant eyes immediately focusing on the black-haired conductor in front of them.

Only Reyna isn’t ordering them to pull out a particular piece yet. Her eyes stare at the clock, almost in disbelief that the time has the audacity to hit six. By the time a minute passes, the orchestra shifts uncomfortably because Reyna _never_ starts practice late. It’s evident nobody knows why she hasn’t started.

Jason knows. He can’t help but to look past Reyna at Annabeth, who has an emotionless look on her face. “He’s late,” he informs her.

“Not late. Just be patient,” Annabeth chides with an eye roll. She rests her arm lightly on the body of her cello, her bow slung across her lap. “It’s a minute past six. Hardly qualifies as late.”

“Reyna starts on time. Your guy is late.” Jason can’t help but to feel smug— Annabeth had spent the past week insisting she has the solution to the orchestra’s problem, nearly talking his ear off.

It’s not that Jason wants the orchestra to suffer; as concertmaster, a struggling symphony doesn’t reflect well on any of them. It’s the last thing he wants. Yet Annabeth’s idea for a replacement bassist makes him nervous.

None of this would be happening if the two freshmen bassists hadn’t quit. Recruiting freshmen for orchestra is risky as it is, given they don’t know how intense college symphonies are; high school groups are a walk in the park compared to how grueling the next level is. The pieces are harder, the practices longer, the competitions more challenging. With a dwindling upright bass section, the two freshmen put the basses in a position in which the other sections drowned them out. And with the cellos depending heavily on the basses to keep in time, the whole orchestra has been thrown off.

But Annabeth keeps insisting she knows some amazing bassist who can help out.

Before Jason can ask for Reyna to start practice, the door to the music room swings open, breaking the uneasy silence that had settled over the symphony. All heads turn around, gazing at the outsider, and Jason’s eyebrows furrow. For a moment, he’d assumed the person must be the person Annabeth convinced to join the symphony. Now he isn’t so sure.

The girl is short, probably an entire head shorter than Jason— he can tell even from his seat. She’s wearing a denim jacket that looks too big on her, buttons scattered along the jacket. Her black shirt is plain beneath it except for the occasional hole, revealing patches of brown skin. He isn’t sure if the holes in the fabric are intentional or not. Her jeans are a faded blue, rips all along both her legs, and clunky-looking Doc Martens finish off the outfit. Her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail, loose strands framing her face. When she turns her head, Jason sees the light catches on a silver hoop in her nose along with several piercings lining her ear.

This girl looks out of place in the orchestra room, as if she’d been dropped from a spaceship onto a foreign planet. She has to be lost. There’s no way she’s here on purpose. She has to have wandered into the wrong room, or maybe is lost and needs directions, or—

Annabeth stands, her hand on the neck of her cello to keep it upright, setting her bow on the music stand. “This is Piper McLean,” she says easily, her grey eyes glittering smugly as her gaze flickers to Jason. “She’s in my boyfriend’s band and she’s going to be our new bassist.”

_There’s no way._

The girl, Piper, looks uncomfortable with the sudden attention drawn to her. She forces a smile and Jason can feel heat flood through his body. She is the exact opposite of what he expects himself to be attracted to, but here he is, feeling his ears blaze. He hopes his mouth isn’t hanging open, but it might be, so he makes a point to press his lips together tightly in order to keep it that way. His hand tightens around the neck of his violin and he wipes his suddenly clammy free hand on the leg of his jeans.

Second chair, Gwen, snickers beside him. “Is it suddenly hot in here?” she whispers to him, seemingly more amused when he shoots her a dirty look.

Reyna is scrutinizing Piper just as intently as Jason is, which makes him panic because if she’s just as interested as him, it’s game over. She’s conductor-in-training, a senior, beautiful, and gay. And judging by the pansexual flag pinned to Piper’s jacket, Reyna might have a shot.

_Whoa, you haven’t even heard her say a word and you’re already sad about Reyna getting the girl? Focus on the music._

“Are you planning on playing with us tonight, Piper?” Reyna asks after giving Piper a once-over. “We have a few pieces we’ve been working on.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Piper replies, her voice deeper than Jason imagined. Although she looks like she could kill someone with a glance, there’s a gentle ease to the way she speaks, a comforting tone, reminding Jason of waking up in the morning, or—

_Focus!_

From beside him, Gwen is giving him a sideways smirk, rolling her eyes and murmuring, “You’re a goner.”

Jason wishes he can deny it, but Gwen has been his stand partner since his freshman year. It’s her job to be able to read him, to see when the piece is to begin, to know when to slow down. If he thinks he’s a goner, Gwen _knows_ he’s a goner.

Reyna arches an eyebrow, but she looks over at Annabeth, who is nodding rapidly. If they weren’t so desperate for bassists, Reyna would probably force Piper to prove herself then and there.

But Reyna just sighs and nods. “You can sit and watch for this practice. Next time, I’d like to see you on the bass. Got it?”

“Yep.” Piper pulls up a chair from the back and plops down behind the violas, shielded towards the end of the bass section. She stretches out her legs and crosses her ankles, looking comfortable despite the awkwardness in the room from an outsider.

It’s unspoken, but everyone is wondering what isn’t being sad: _Has she even played upright bass before?_ If she had, she’d be more eager to jump in and start playing. But here she is, sitting like an observer, as if she’s someone just attending a show. If she’s really a musician, she’d be eager to show off.

But Jason doesn’t have time to think about it. Reyna raises her baton and taps it on the edge of the stand in front of her with the conductor sheet. “Alright, everyone. You know the drill. Symphony No. 5.”

He wants to have time to think about it, but Reyna lifts the baton into the air and everyone moves from resting position, bows hovering over the strings, preparing to play. Jason is half a second behind everyone else. Half a second shouldn’t make a difference, but Reyna gives him a look. Gwen snickers from beside him. Annabeth rolls her eyes and Jason hopes he isn’t blushing as much as he thinks he is.

But when Reyna locks eyes with him and he begins playing when she moves her baton, he doesn’t think about the outsider in the room who he thinks is staring at him. He’s used to people staring while he plays but her steady gaze is unnerving.

Between sixteenth notes and shifts to higher positions, Jason loses himself in the best way possible. He’s there, but all he can focus on is the music, how the notes are not just notes, but they’re telling a story of some time, how his notes are different from the second violins, which are different from the violas, from the cellos, from the basses… Something so different cannot possibly sound good, but Beethoven was a genius; his pieces are a gift. Piecing together notes that are so different to make them sound so lovely is a rare gift.

This is Jason’s element. This is the place he is most talented, most confident. He’s been playing violin for as long as he can remember. Nothing can rip this away from him. Not even a pretty girl with clunky boots and ear piercings and brown eyes—

Jason nearly fumbles and plays an A instead of an A flat. Gwen sees his finger shift at the last possible second and he swears she scoffs.

By the time the last note plays and it hangs heavy in the air for several moments, Reyna lowers her baton and the orchestra responds by lowering their instruments. To any outsider, the run through may have sounded good. But Jason knows this isn’t where they should be. The basses had struggled to be heard. For just a measure, they were half a beat behind the rest of the orchestra, which is not good. If he heard it, he knows Reyna must have heard it, too.

For a moment, he doesn’t care about what Reyna thinks. Sure, she may be his student conductor, but he doesn’t want her criticism now. He turns around and his eyes meet Piper McLean’s.

She looks impressed, or at least Jason thinks she’s impressed. She’s not smiling, but her lips are curled up, almost as if she’s in a losing war against the formation of a grin. Her eyebrows are slightly raised and he realizes that she’d been staring at him before he looked over at her. Heat fills his entire body and despite the fact the piece had sounded terrible, he has a ridiculous urge to smile.

“And that,” Reyna says, breaking Jason from his reverie, forcing him to look away from Piper, “is why we need another bass player.” She looks past the orchestra and settles her expectant gaze on Piper, who’s still slouched in her seat. “The basses aren’t loud enough as it is. Annabeth spoke highly of you.”

“She did?” Piper raises her eyebrows. “I can play bass. I can read the music. I can do it.”

Jason isn’t sure if the confidence in her voice is artificial or genuine. He hopes she’s as confident as she sounds.

Reyna isn’t as convinced as Jason wants to be. She just nods and sighs, looking back down at her conductor score. “Alright, let’s break things down starting at measure seven. Basses?”

Once Reyna’s attention is diverted to the bass section, where Frank seems to be sweating under her gaze, Jason can’t help himself. His gaze wanders back to Piper and he can feel the heat rush to his cheeks once more when her awaiting eyes meet his. This time, she’s definitely grinning at him.

“You got a little bit of drool there,” Gwen stage whispers.

“Shut up.” Jason doesn’t look away from Piper, who arches an eyebrow at him.

Gwen rolls her eyes. “If you keep this up, I’ll respectfully resign as second chair and move back to avoid this eye sex thing. It’s gross.”

Jason hopes he isn’t blushing as much as he thinks he is. “Not sex eyes. I’m… curious,” he says slowly. _Curious_ isn’t quite the right word for it. He’s sure what he’s feeling goes far beyond curiosity. She’s a challenge and he wishes he was brave enough to take it up.

“Yeah, okay, Jason,” Gwen scoffs. “You’ve given her one look.”

He wants to retort that one look is enough, but suddenly Reyna is silencing them again, tapping her baton on her stand. “Alright, we’re going to run it from the top at half speed,” she says, looking over at Jason. “Got it?”

Jason nods and tries not to wonder if Piper is staring at him still. She doesn’t get the right to march in and take control of the room where he calls the shots. He’s concertmaster. He can’t lose his grip. Not with the orchestra counting on him. Not with the bass section already suffering. It’d be selfish of him to push aside the good of the group to stare at some girl he doesn’t even know.

So instead of wondering if she’s staring at him or not, he pours all of his concentration into his craft, allowing his fingers to press down in its appropriate places in order to play the correct notes. He usually immerses himself in the music because he can’t help it, but now he has to force himself to forget about his surroundings. All that exists is him, his violin, his sheet music, Reyna, and the other members of the orchestra.

_And Piper._

Somehow he manages to play without stumbling over flats and accidentals. He plays flawlessly, which is expected since he’s concertmaster. Usually he doesn’t brag about his skills so openly, but he’s proud of his composure when he feels ready to lose his cool. (Gwen can argue all day that he never had cool to begin with, though he can argue right back there had been _some_ cool.)

The rest of practice flies by like the blink of an eye. As a whole, there isn’t a lot of progress made on the piece, which is as expected, but Reyna seems displeased, as if she’d expected better. She sighs and dismisses them with a wave of her hand, closing her score before putting her baton away.

Before Reyna can sneak out of the room and into the music department offices, Jason has already packed up his violin and grabs it, his music binder tucked under his arm as he goes after her.

Annabeth has the same idea. Somehow she’d managed to pack up her cello, the packed up instrument against her back, her music binder gripped in her fists. Jason isn’t surprised to see her running after Reyna, but he’s surprised about who’s following in her shadows.

Nico is there too, his viola case in his fist, and he’s mumbling something under his breath to Annabeth. His hair is messier than usual and he’s clenching his jaw like he’s angry.

“—just drop it, Nico,” Annabeth as she matches Jason’s long strides. She then turns to Jason, raising an eyebrow as they slip out of the room, still at Reyna’s heels. “Why are you here?”

“I’m concertmaster. Why are _you_ here?” he asks.

“Section leader. Also responsible for finding us a bassist.”

“Why didn’t you mention the bassist was a girl?”

“Can’t bass players be girls? That’s sexist,” Annabeth deadpans.

“Of course they can be girls!” Jason feels the tips of his ears blaze with heat as Reyna enters her office. “You just said they were in Percy’s band, so I assumed it was a guy.”

“Haven’t you been to one of our shows? Three guys, one girl. Piper’s the girl,” Nico butts in. For a second, Jason had forgotten Nico’s in the band with Annabeth’s boyfriend, but when he brushes back his hair, Jason can see the crown tattoo encircling the ring finger on his right hand; the band tattoo. Annabeth’s boyfriend has the same one. Jason wonders if Piper has it, too.

“He hasn’t,” Annabeth retorts. “Why does her gender matter to you, Jason? Can’t you leave? I need to talk to—”

“Enough.” Reyna glares at them, interrupting whatever Annabeth’s about to say next. “I am going to talk to Chiron about this. This might be out of my hands.”

If it’s a big enough problem to take it up with Chiron, who is the head of the university’s music department, Jason wonders if Reyna has the same lurking suspicion that he does: has Piper played upright bass before?

“Chiron’s going to agree with me,” Annabeth insists quickly. Too quickly.

Reyna sighs and puts her score on her desk. “I can’t just allow another member to join without letting Chiron know. You know that, Annabeth. I may conduct, but ultimately I’m not the one in charge.” Without waiting for a reply, she walks out of her office.

Annabeth shoots Jason an exasperated look as she goes to follow Reyna out of the room. “You were the one pushing for a new bassist. You’re just mad I found one without classical training.”

“That’s not it.”

“Isn’t it? You don’t think Percy’s a real musician because he isn’t classically trained,” Annabeth reminds him. “That’s why you wanted to see me fail.”

Jason wants to refute Annabeth’s claim. But he’d be lying if he said the fact Piper doesn’t have a classical training background didn’t scare him. He only wants the best for the symphony. Piper just might not be it (even if he really wants her to be).

Annabeth sighs when Jason doesn’t reply. She follows Reyna closely, her free hand curled around the strap of her cello case.

When Reyna reaches the door to Chiron’s office, she turns around and shakes her head. “Oh, no. You guys are _not_ coming in with me.”

“I am,” Jason interjects. “I’m concertmaster.”

“It doesn’t give you a say in this,” Reyna argues.

“I was the one who recruited her,” Annabeth says. “Let me talk to Chiron.”

“You’ve known him for nearly your entire life. You’ll persuade him.” Reyna looks over at Nico. “Well? Aren’t you going to state your case?”

“I’m just here with Annabeth,” Nico answers quietly.

Reyna nods and opens the door to Chiron’s office, slipping inside before Annabeth can follow.

Annabeth’s jaw is clenched as she looks at Jason. “Are you happy now?”

“If she doesn’t know how to play upright bass, then yes. It’s better to have a quiet bass section than have someone join who doesn’t know how to play,” Jason answers.

“Electric bass to upright bass isn’t difficult,” Annabeth says. “She’s talented. And she’s willing to play with us. Do you see anyone else lined up to join the orchestra?”

“No, but—”

“Exactly. And even if she isn’t the best candidate, we’ll help her out,” Annabeth interrupts. “She’s here and you want to send her away.”

“You did kind of guilt her into showing up,” Nico mumbles.

“I did not!”

“You did. You made her feel bad. You know Piper doesn’t have time as it is with the band and school, but you—”

“Piper would’ve told me no if she really didn’t want to be here, Nico.”

“You also know what Piper thinks about classically trained musicians.”

“What does she think about people who are classically trained?” Jason doesn’t know why he’s so curious, but the words slip out before he can think them through.

“Given you’re classically trained and you don’t think she’s a real musician, just imagine what she thinks.” Nico’s voice is oddly cold, stoic even. Although he’s not outrightly kind to everyone, he’s never acted this way towards Jason.

“I wasn’t mean to her. And I never said she wasn’t a real musician,” Jason says, but his voice his hollow.

“You just implied it,” Annabeth points out. “Which is why you’re still resisting.”

Nico nods. “The only reason you support me being in the band is because I played viola before I started playing drums. I have a classical background. Yet you haven’t come to any of our shows just because the other three don’t have that background of prestige.”

“I—”

“Not everyone can afford training like us,” Nico continues. “Classical music is elitist. Doesn’t mean they’re any less talented than us.”

Jason feels his face grow warm. He’s never explicitly said people without classical training weren’t _real_ musicians; he believes anyone who picks up an instrument is a musician. But for the symphony, he does believe there’s a distinct difference between those with a classical background and those without. He doesn’t want to risk allowing someone in without having a proper musical background. Even if it is a gorgeous girl who he can stare at all day and—

Before Jason can continue on his thought tangent, the door to Chiron’s office opens. Reyna appears and her face reveals nothing. She looks at the three of them and simply says, “I’ll see you at practice on Wednesday.” She goes to walk away, but stops and calls over her shoulder, “And Piper, too. Make sure she’s on time.”

Annabeth grins and nods rapidly. “I’ll pass along the message,” she promises as Reyna rounds the corner and disappears. She turns to Jason, shrugging. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry. At least you found us a bassist.”

“She’s good,” Nico offers. “Seriously. She may not have wanted to show up, but she’s here now. She’s going to make a difference.” At that, Nico walks away, his viola case swinging in hand.

Jason isn’t sure what to say. Should he apologize to Annabeth for being so hard on her? Should he say anything? Should he stay quiet?

Annabeth reaches up and pats Jason’s shoulder gently. “If you don’t believe me, search up the band on Spotify. It’s called Of Gods and Glory. Just listen for the bassline. And,” she grins as she backs up, “she also sings. You’ll hear her, she’s the only girl.”

“Of Gods and Glory?” Jason can’t help but scoff. “Your boyfriend’s got some ambitious name choices.”

“I didn’t say Percy named the band.” Annabeth smirks as she turns around before calling over her shoulder, “Piper did.”

Jason doesn’t want to admit it, but he thinks it fits.

He also doesn’t want to admit he spends the rest of the night listening to the band on Spotify, but he does.

* * *

The next practice is just as messy as Jason anticipates it to be.

If Reyna is frustrated, she’s trying her hardest to hide it. She stays calm but by the time practice is nearing its end, several strands have fallen around her face, a result of her running her hands against her hair. Each time she looks down at her score, her braid falls over her shoulder, a wavy strand falling over her eyes. If the hair in her face annoys her, she doesn’t do anything about it.

Although watching Reyna is a necessity, Jason doesn’t spend much time watching the conductor. His eyes, seemingly against his will, move over to the bass section. Gwen notices and rolls her eyes when Jason tries to lie and say he’s staring at the section as a whole.

He can’t help himself when Piper is standing there. Today her long hair falls freely down her back, hanging against her white and red striped shirt (which makes her skin look _so_ nice, but he’d never say that out loud). She stands with the bass against her chest, her small hand wrapped around the neck, and as her fingers dance to their proper positions, there’s no doubt in Jason’s mind that she can do this. He’d listened to her band for hours the past two days and the talent is clear in the songs. She can do this.

It’s almost ironic how he believes in her when he hasn’t said a single word to her.

However, he can see her struggling. Her hand is gripping her bow awkwardly and it’s evidently uncomfortable for her. Every time she gets a chance to rest, she puts her bow on her music stand and shakes out her hand. She isn’t as good as Reyna at hiding her frustration; her eyebrows are knit and her lips are curled down.

Her struggle to hold the bow properly is affecting how she plays. Jason can see her stumble over simple runs of eighth notes, the bow moving across the strings at the wrong angle, which causes the bass to make weird noises. It isn’t a bad, but it definitely isn’t making the sounds it should.

By the time Reyna calls practice off for the night, Jason can see how frustrated Piper is. She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand and grips the neck of the bass so tightly it looks like it hurts.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Gwen warns him as she closes her violin case. She stands and shakes her head at him. “She’s pissed.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Jason says defensively.

“You were going to talk to her. I’m just warning against it.”

“Okay, thanks, _Mom_ ,” Jason shoots back.

Gwen smiles and nudges him playfully. “But I can’t stop you. Do what you want.” And with that, Gwen walks away.

When Jason finally packs up his violin and closes his music binder, the music room is empty. He’s usually the last one out of the room, but he’s surprised to see Piper.

She’s gripping the bass tightly, the case open on the ground in front of her. Jason contemplates leaving since she still seems to be angry, but she’s staring at the case as if she doesn’t know how to put the instrument away. He pauses, pondering for just a moment before making his way over to her.

“Need a hand?” he asks gently.

Piper looks up at him and exhales slowly. “You must think I’m an idiot, unable to get the bass into a case.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot. It’s a step up from what you’re used to.” Jason sets down his violin case on a chair to his left before wrapping his own hand around the neck of the base. “You just gotta grip the neck and put your hand under its side while lowering it.” He does as he says, carefully setting the base down correctly in its case. “It may seem fragile, but it’s tougher than it looks.”

“It’s all… wood. I feel like it’s going to break on me.” She crosses her arms and looks defensive.

“Trust me, if it was all that fragile, I probably would’ve broken ten violins by now.” Jason chuckles and straps the neck of the bass in before shutting the case. “You’re all good now.” He stands, putting the case on its wheels.

“Thanks.” She smiles wearily. “I would have been here all night if not for you.”

He laughs again and sticks out his hand. “I’m Jason Grace.”

“I know you. Annabeth wouldn’t shut up about you before I joined.” She slips her hands into his and shakes. “Piper McLean.”

When she pulls her hand away, Jason can see black ink around the ring finger of her right hand, the same tattoo as Nico— the crown.

“How was your first day of practice?” he asks coolly. He defaults to a simple question purely because he can’t think straight with her so close.

“I mean, it could’ve been better.” She slips her music binder under her arm and sighs. “I’ve been playing bass for most my life now. But this is not the bass I’m good at.”

“The bow.”

“What about the bow?”

Jason hopes he doesn’t melt under her fiery gaze. “You’re not used to holding a bow. I could tell. You’re supposed to hold your bow loosely, but you’re gripping it like a claw.”

Her jaw clenches and she averts her gaze from him. “Yeah, well, I’m used to a pick. This isn’t how my electric bass functions and I can tell I’m not helping the greater good.”

“Just because you’re not used to holding a bow doesn’t mean you won’t. And you may be struggling, but you are helping us. Really.”

“I just don’t get why I agreed to this,” she mumbles. “I have the band and school and now six hours a week here, and—”

“I could help you practice.” The offer slips past Jason’s lips before he can think.

His offer surprises her just as much as it surprises him. She raises her eyebrows. “You’d be willing? Aren’t you busy with your own agenda?”

He doesn’t know why his face heats up, but he hopes she doesn’t see how red his face is. “Uh, I mean, you’re struggling, and I know Frank has two jobs, plus I’m concertmaster, so I don’t mind helping out. I’ve been playing since I was four years old, and I may not play bass, but I’ve been playing long enough to know how to transfer my skills over to bass, so if you’re up for it, I can—”

Before Jason can babble her ear off, Piper holds up a hand. He stops talking and knows she’s about to reject his offer and then he’d have to face embarrassment. He’s a stranger, an enemy in a way since he’s just another classical musician, but her eyes twinkle and she says gently, “If you’re willing, I accept.”

“You do?” His voice sounds like it’s miles away.

“Annabeth would kill me if I quit or if I held the symphony back. So my answer is yes. When do we start?”

He blinks, not sure if he’s dreaming or not. He tries to come up with a rational answer, but suddenly all he can think about is her voice blaring in his ears, the way she sings, and she’s staring at him with her big brown eyes and she’s grinning and he isn’t sure he’ll be able to speak without stuttering like an idiot.

To save himself the embarrassment, he says, “Tomorrow?”

“What time? I have band practice at seven.”

“Five good for you?”

“Five is perfect.” She grins and begins to roll her case away. “I’d stick around and chat, but I’m actually late for practice tonight, and if Nico makes it there before me, he’ll probably tell everyone else that I was an idiot who didn’t know how to put an instrument in its case.”

“Yeah, uh…” Jason blinks and picks up his violin case. “Yeah, I should head out too, I have an early class tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at five?” She opens the door and stands still for a moment.

“Yeah. Five. The closest practice room to here.”

“Practice room closest to here. Perfect.” She flashes him a last smile. “See you later.”

He thinks he should answer, but he blinks and she’s gone.

Gwen’s words echo in his head from the first time he saw Piper: _You’re a goner._

Jason might be a goner, he has to acknowledge that. Helping her practice is risky. He may be in trouble. But it’s worth the gamble— he’s concertmaster. The symphony will reflect on him. He needs to help her.

He needs a lot of things, but the symphony comes first. It has to.

When he gets into the car, he’s realizing the magnitude of his decision to help Piper. If he’s distracted by her in a room full of people, he’s going to be distracted by her even more in a tiny practice room.

This is what he tells Annabeth on the phone on his drive home to his apartment. He’s aware he’s babbling way more than he did in front of Piper, but this is Annabeth; he’s known her for three years now. If anyone can help him with this crisis, it’s her.

He finishes off his rant with a plea for help: “Annabeth, help me. What did I do?”

Her laugh fills the other line. “Jason, relax. It’s just some help. You’ll be fine. You deal with girls just fine.”

“Yeah, symphony girls. Not… _her_.”

“So you’re saying just because she’s not some classical musician, it means you don’t know how to talk to her?” Annabeth asks incredulously.

“Exactly.” It’s sad to say, but Jason’s never ventured out of his comfort zone. And suddenly here he is, drooling over a girl with a nose piercing and a crown tattoo. He’s a little out of his element.

“You don’t know her.”

“She’s scary intimidating.”

“Jason, I’ve seen Piper play chubby bunny and shove thirteen marshmallows into her mouth, and then spit them onto Percy to sing along to Queen. She’s not as scary as she looks. Once you get to know her, she’s sweet.”

Jason sighs and drums his fingers on his steering wheel. He’s been parked in front of his apartment complex for ten minutes now and he doesn’t want to stop talking to Annabeth. If he does, he’ll lapse into panic mode again.

It’s almost like Annabeth senses his nerves, because she tells him, “Listen, Percy’s coming over after practice and I need to shower before he arrives, so I have to go. Just relax. I could tell her to take it easy on you?” Her voice takes on a teasing edge.

“I can handle myself,” he says weakly.

“Good. I wouldn’t want to smack some sense into you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jason hangs up the phone and rotates it in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. And before he can stop himself, he’s opening Spotify and listening to Of Gods and Glory, Piper’s voice weirdly relaxing him when just the thought of her unsettles him in the best way possible.

Gwen had been right. Jason is a goner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Now I'm feeling so alive  
>  Feeling something  
> And I want you to know  
> Oh I got electrified  
> By your side**
> 
> the song for this chapter is electrified by just loud.  
> i am so excited to finally release this! this fic has been a work in progress for such a long time and it's a personal favorite of mine. it's a lot different than anything i've ever written and i hope it will live up to its hype! and yes, friends, before i get asked about it, this fic is rated explicit and for a good reason: the tags aren't deceiving you, this is a fwb fic!  
> unlike not quite famous, there won't be a schedule for updates, this will be a 'update as i write' fic.  
> i hope you guys liked this! as always, check out my tumblr for fic updates and more content! 


	2. feeling some type of way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **It's not just a figure of speech  
>  You got me down on my knees  
> It's getting harder to breathe out **

“See, you have to loosen your hand, like this—”

“I _am_ doing that!”

“No, you’re not. Your hand is gripping it too tightly.”

“Am I hurting it or something? What’s the big deal?”

“No.” Jason sighs and removes his glasses momentarily to rub his eyes. “You’re still gripping it and you’re forming a claw with your hand over the bow. It won’t let you move the bow the way you have to and it’ll make your hand uncomfortable.”

“I don’t see how I can hold the bow without holding it tightly,” Piper answers, holding the bow out in front of her with a frown.

Jason sighs again and steps forward. “We’ve been at it for a week and you still don’t know how to hold it correctly.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to using a bow, I—”

He holds up his hands defensively. “I can tell you how to do it all I want, but I think you need more than just verbal instructions.”

She arches an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Hold your hand out to me.” When she holds the hand with the bow clenched in her fingers out, he swallows back a sudden influx of nerves and reaches forward. He carefully readjusts her fingers, telling her what he’s doing as he does it. “Your pinky should sit comfortably on the end. Your middle and ring fingers should just relax and drop into place. Index finger resting against the bow stick, like that, and your thumb should bend right there.” He looks up to see her eyes focused on his and warmth floods throughout his entire body. “See, you’re doing it. How does that feel?”

“Better,” she admits. “I feel like the bow’s going to fly from my hand, though. I’m not holding it tightly at all.”

“You’re not supposed to hold it tightly.” He nudges her wrist, unable to stop himself from staring at her crown tattoo circling her finger. “Try playing a few measures. Just one through seven.”

Piper nods and straightens her back. She puts her fingers into place, bringing the bow back against the strings as she begins to play. And there’s immediate improvement, even Jason can tell from just a few measures, a few notes. For a moment, he feels pride swell up in his chest— maybe the symphony isn’t doomed after all. If he can do this, he can accomplish anything.

But then Piper’s face lights up when she realizes she’s playing correctly, all the accomplishment he’d felt for himself transfers over. How can he be taking all the credit when she’s the one stepping up to help him out? She’s the one playing, not him.

“I did it,” she says, a huge smile on her face.

“I knew you could,” is Jason’s immediate answer. “Just a little tricky at first, but I knew you’d be able to overcome it.”

She beams, putting her bow on the music stand in front of her before holding her fist out towards him. It takes him a moment to understand she’s waiting for a fist bump. Grinning, he makes his own fist and taps it to hers gently.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks.

“Not going to deny that,” she admits. “Makes this all seem worth it, you know? With classes and band practice and now this. I felt like I was wasting my time for a hot second because I couldn’t even play right. I didn’t want to let anyone down, especially,” she pauses for a moment to look down at her bass and for a moment, Jason hopes she says him, “Annabeth.”

“I can tell you right now, you’re not letting any of us down.” Jason hesitates, unsure if he wants to step into unfamiliar territory with a near stranger. This is only their second practice outside of two other full symphony ones and he isn’t sure she wants to hear his opinion. But they’re alone and she’s on an adrenaline high and she deserves to feel validated. “Not going to lie, I was a bit skeptical when I found out you were in Annabeth’s boyfriend’s band.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

He rolls his eyes and tries to hide his embarrassment. “Let me finish. I just… I know it’s unfair of me to think you’re not a real musician just because you’re not trained classically. But this is my first year as concertmaster and I was scared the symphony wasn’t going to be what it’s been in the past. I was scared that you wouldn’t know how to play upright bass, so I judged you before I spoke to you. I think I owe you an apology because now I know you’re a real musician.”

Piper studies his face for a few moments and he’s scared she’s angry at him. He’d be pissed if he was in her situation; doubting someone’s musical abilities due to different upbringings is a rash and unfair decision.

Except she isn’t mad. She says easily, “I’m glad I proved you wrong, then.”

Jason can practically taste the tension on his tongue. Usually he’d want to bolt, but it isn’t necessarily _bad_ tension. He isn’t one to be so accepting of being proven wrong, yet there’s a strange euphoric feeling to be wrong about Piper. He isn’t sure why he feels so good.

Before he can speak and embarrass himself further, the timer on his phone goes off. He sighs because he knows this is his fifteen minute warning before work. He doesn’t mind his job, he really doesn’t, but the timing is shit. How can he go to work if he wants to be proven wrong again?

“Didn’t you say you have work?” Piper asks, breaking him from his reverie as the alarm for his timer continues to blare.

“Yeah.” He sighs and turns off the alarm. “I have to leave now, actually. That’s what the alarm is for.”

“Well, go, I shouldn’t keep you waiting.” Piper nudges the case open with her foot, already starting to lower the bass down.

For some reason, Jason hesitates as soon as he slings his backpack over his shoulder. He wants to stay here in this practice room all day and watch Piper play. He isn’t sure where this newfound excitement to watch her play is coming from, but his hand hovers over the doorknob to leave the practice room.

“You’re going to be late,” Piper informs him as she props the case up onto its wheels. “And you’re going to make me late, too. I have to return this to the music room and then I have class in thirty.”

“Oh, right.” Jason’s ears heat up and he quickly opens the door, keeping it open for Piper to push the case through. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine.” She grins and starts steering the case in the direction of the music room. “We have practice tonight, right?”

“Yep. Six.” Jason hates how his feet seem to be stuck to the floor, finding himself unable to turn around and leave. He’s staring after Piper as she moves away from him.

But for some reason, Piper is still facing his direction as well, side-stepping along as she pushes the case towards the music room. If he’s hesitating, so is she.

“Six,” she repeats, her voice just loud enough for him to hear down the hallway.

“Six.” His own voice lowers in volume and he hopes she can hear her.

The spell is broken. She tears her eyes away and she puts her back to him, completing her walk down the hallway and pushing open the door to the music room.

And of course, Jason staring at the pretty girl with ripped jeans has made him almost late for work, so he has to nearly run across campus to reach the library.

He’s worked at the library for a year now and he thoroughly enjoys it. There’s something therapeutic about scanning barcodes on books all day, organizing shelves, and the silence. This is _exactly_ what he needs right now— something calming and familiar to jolt him from this spell of stupidity. He feels like some overgrown puppy stumbling over his paws, running towards someone calling his name. The only problem is that he is not a puppy and Piper McLean is certainly not calling out for him.

He arrives a minute before his shift starts, pushing open the door to the room behind the check-out counter, and Frank looks up in surprise.

“Cutting it close, aren’t you?” Frank asks lightly, glancing back down to continue organizing a stack of books.

“Sorry. I was in the music building.” Jason grabs his badge, pinning it to his belt before sitting down opposite of Frank to log into the computer. Might as well start off with the computer logs of the books.

“I figured.”

Jason can feel his eyebrows pull together involuntarily at Frank’s dry comment. “You did?”

“You’re always ten minutes early to work. If anything made you late, my guess would be Piper.” Frank shrugs without looking up from his task at hand.

Jason is thankful Frank is looking down because the blush creeps onto his face immediately. He grits his teeth and his fingers type a little harder than usual.

“Am I wrong?” Frank asks when Jason doesn’t answer.

“I was helping Piper practice, yes, I just don’t see how that correlates to me arriving later than usual,” Jason replies, his voice slightly strained. He hates how he can’t keep his cool when he’s unsure why he’s so unsettled in the first place.

At that, Frank sighs. “I hate to break it to you, but the whole symphony knows you have a crush on her.”

“I don’t have a crush on her!”

“Okay, maybe not a full-blown crush, but you’re definitely attracted to her.” Frank finally looks up and his eyes widen. “Are you in _denial_ about this?”

“I am in denial because I’m not attracted to her,” Jason responds stubbornly. The words are out before he can stop them and he winces because even he knows this is a lie. The crush thing is questionable; he doesn’t even know her, so there’s no way he can have romantic feelings for her. Being attracted to her, however… It’s plausible because it’s true.

“Okay, fine, you might not think so, but you are teaching her outside of symphony practice. That’s weird, even for you,” Frank points out.

“How is it weird?” Jason asks. “I’m nice. I help people out.”

Frank shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. Ever since you became concertmaster, you’ve been delegating duties so you don’t have to do as much, which is understandable. You usually have section leaders set time aside to help out people in our sections, but you didn’t even approach me to help Piper privately even though I’m her section leader. Not to mention before you met her, you weren’t excited to have someone without classical training join the symphony. You fought with Annabeth every step of the way when she first suggested recruiting the bassist from Percy’s band. And now you’re suddenly meeting up with Piper outside of the symphony practices to get her caught up? I might be reading into this wrong, but I’m not the only one who thinks there’s something there.”

Jason sighs and hates how right Frank is. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but there’s a very real possibility that what he feels towards Piper goes beyond simple infatuation. He thinks he might like her, or if he doesn’t like her yet, he _could_ like her.

And how could he not like her? For one, she’s gorgeous. And talented. He’s seen her play upright bass firsthand and thanks to Annabeth, he can’t stop playing Of Gods and Glory in his spare time. Hearing her voice and the strum of the bassline is now a daily ritual. He can’t help himself from playing their music. And even when she’s frustrated with herself, she never takes it out on Jason. Sure, she’s snarky and sarcastic, but she’s never rude to him.

Yet even if anything happened between them, there’s no telling if it’ll work out because they’re from two completely different worlds. Piper is a bassist in some punk rock band, spending her weekends in front of crowds and in bars while Jason is sitting in the school library, scrolling through the online records.

“I’m sorry if I pried,” Frank says after a few moments of silence. “I just assumed we were good enough friends that—”

“No, you didn’t pry. It seems that everyone knows my feelings better than I do,” Jason answers, trying to keep the tone light but the joke falls flat.

“What are you going to do?” Frank asks. “My plate is full but if you need to me take over practices with her, I’m more than willing to.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, you have another job and you’re trying to graduate this year,” Jason argues. “I made this commitment and I’m not going to let some unresolved feelings get in the way of that. Thank you, but I can handle it.”

Frank doesn’t look convinced but he nods anyway, probably knowing Jason can’t handle it. “Whatever you say.”

And Jason can’t handle it— he realizes that as he shoves in his earbuds and immediately turns on Of Gods and Glory.

* * *

The next week consists of Jason continuing to lie about his feelings, which is just as bad as it sounds.

_I’m okay, it’s okay, it’s not anything romantic. I just think she’s pretty, that’s all._

That’s the excuse he tells not only himself but Annabeth and Gwen too. Neither of them believes him. He doesn’t believe himself, either.

Between symphony practices and the private ones with Piper, Jason can practically hear Frank’s accusation of his crush. Luckily whenever he’s with Piper, music fills the room, so the sound of Frank’s voice is drowned out.

Distractions usually aren’t the best way to cope, but if Jason doesn’t distract himself, he knows for a fact he’ll do something dumb. Except one day, there isn’t a distraction in the world to save him.

After his law and society class, Jason has some downtime before work. He’s dragging; it’s a Friday and while it’s already been a hectic week, he still has a few classes to go before the weekend. He knows at this rate, he’ll never be able to finish out the day. So before he can swing by the library, he stops at the on-campus café. He usually doesn’t give into the outrageously high coffee prices, but he’s thoroughly suffering.

Once he steps inside and gets into line, he knows he’s screwed.

Piper is standing in front of him in line. He wonders if he should feel embarrassed for recognizing her from the back, though it’s quite obviously her— scuffed up Vans, cut-off jeans, some black band shirt. Her hair is pulled back in a braid, some loose strands settling against the nape of her neck, which makes him want to brush her hair away, but if he did that, she’d probably deck him out.

She’s standing next to some black-haired guy Jason doesn’t recognize from the back. He’s not quite as tall as Jason, but lankier, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black jeans. His ears are pierced and he’s wearing a faded sweatshirt, matching with Piper by having lace-up Vans on his feet.

They’re talking in low voices and even though Jason can’t hear what they’re saying, they look like they’re having fun. They’re nudging each other and laughing and for a moment, Jason can feel his heart sink to his feet. Who is this guy?

 _Stop acting like you mean something to her. Just because you think she’s pretty doesn’t entitle you to anything,_ Jason’s subconscious nags.

Jason wants to punch his subconscious in the gut. Maybe it was a mistake to come waste five dollars on a mediocre coffee because he wouldn’t have seen this.

When he contemplates making a beeline for the door, Piper angles her body and her eyes drift to him. She grins and says, “Hey, Jason!”

 _Too late now._ Jason forces a smile and answers, “Piper.”

Piper’s black-haired friend turns around as well and Jason’s gaze is met with green eyes. It takes Jason a moment to realize it’s Percy, Annabeth’s boyfriend.

Jason’s known Percy Jackson since he was a freshman. He’s been dating Annabeth since the stone age or something, so when Jason met Annabeth, Percy quickly followed. Jason’s never been close to him, but the guy is nice enough. He always attends the symphony concerts and whenever he sees Jason, he goes out of his way to say hi and make some small talk. It’s just weird to see Percy with anyone else except for Annabeth, yet here he is with Piper, looking utterly at ease. Before Piper noticed Jason, the pair had been nudging each other and seemingly cracking jokes. This is a different side of Percy, one Jason’s never seen before. Jason’s seen Percy with Nico, who is also in their band, but Percy hadn’t been as laid back with Nico as he is with Piper.

“Hey, long time no see,” Percy greets with a smile and holds out his hand for Jason to shake. Jason can’t help but to notice the band tattoo around Percy’s ring finger. “How’ve you been? Pipes giving you a hard time yet?”

“Nice to see you, and I’ve been alright,” Jason replies, noticing how Piper rolls her eyes at Percy’s comment. He purposely decides against asking the latter question, asking instead, “How’s everything going with you?”

“Pretty good. I have a three hour seminar after this and I knew I’d die without caffeine, plus we have a gig tonight,” Percy says. “I love Friday gigs, but I have so many hours of class, and I’m guessing—”

“Leo scheduled it, so don’t even blame me,” Piper interrupts, glancing up from scrolling through her phone.

Percy sighs. “Figures.” His eyes suddenly light up and he grins at Jason. “Hey, you should totally come to our show tonight!”

Surprised by the sudden invitation, Jason blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah! We’d love to see you come out. The more familiar faces, the better. Right, Pipes?” Percy slings an arm around Piper’s shoulder and looks down at the shorter girl.

Jason feels warm when Piper’s eyes flicker to study Jason’s suddenly rigid form. She may be trying to be subtle, but he can see the way her eyes give him a once-over. He wonders if she’s judging him, or trying to decide if she even wants her at their show.

Much to Jason’s surprise, Piper nods. “You should come, it’ll be fun. You’re twenty-one, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Cool, makes things easier. It’s at O’Leary’s Pub. Nine tonight. You won’t want to miss it.” There’s a twinkle in Piper’s eyes that makes Jason wonder why she’s so confident the show will be fun.

“Annabeth’s coming, you can sit next to her,” Percy offers. “It’s about damn time you’ve come to one of our shows.”

Part of Jason wants to say yes. Piper is grinning at him and her smile alone is enough to convince him. However, the desperate, weak side of Jason knows for a fact if he sees her on stage and hears her sing in person, he’ll fall apart. Watching her play the upright bass is one thing, but the thought of seeing her with her electric bass is a little too much to bear.

“I would, but I actually already planned on practicing for our upcoming concert tonight,” Jason lies. He hopes he doesn’t sound as robotic as he thinks he does. “I’m sorry.”

Percy frowns. “Can’t you take it easy for one night and just swing by?”

“Sorry, can’t. I need to nail a few measures of a new piece that was just introduced in order to do sectionals next week.” Jason hadn’t been planning on practicing tonight, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes he should probably devote time to practice alone.

For a second, Piper looks disappointed. The expression on her face can even be labeled as crestfallen. Jason hopes she protests like Percy. If she were to protest, maybe Jason would give in.

All Piper says is, “Maybe another time, then.”

“Yeah,” Jason replies, his voice just as monotone as hers, “another time.”

If Jason can’t handle a show now, he’s certain the more he gets to know Piper, he won’t be able to handle seeing a show later.

* * *

Guilt is what leads Jason to the practice room that night. Not motivation, not needing an escape, but guilt.

Guilt seems to be calling the shots more nowadays. Guilt has been eating away at him since he first was proven wrong about Piper being a real musician. Guilt has wedged its way into his mind, reminding himself how judgmental he is every time he sees Annabeth.

If guilt is what is going to push him to improve, he’s a sorry excuse of a concertmaster. Hell, he’s a sorry excuse of a musician.

As the clock on the wall above the piano passes nine, Jason can faintly hear the bassline of Of Gods and Glory song blare through his head like a mantra. It’s their song “Again,” the one where Piper sings about succumbing to a bad habit. She sings about smoking _again_ even though her dad tells her not to and or biting her nails _again_ when she’s anxious and how some douche makes her feel like shit _again_ despite the fact she told herself he shouldn’t matter to her. “Again” stops feeling like just a catchy tune and more like a hidden message; if he lets the guilt eat away at him _again_ , he’s going to disappoint the symphony. By letting himself down, he’s letting down the entire group.

Jason plays with a little more intensity, restarting the piece every time he messes up. And he messes up a lot.

By the time Jason’s gone through Symphony No. 5 for what felt like the millionth time, his hands ache and all he can smell is the rosin from his bow. He can’t recall the last time he’s practiced for so long. Despite practicing for assumedly hours, he feels unsuccessful. Simple runs and sixteenth notes that usually never give him trouble had been stumbled over.

Maybe if he can stop thinking about Piper, he can actually focus on his music.

He decides against running through the piece again, carefully setting his violin in the case. He secures his bow and fastens the case shut. He closes his music binder carefully, putting his case in one hand and tucking his binder under the other. If he goes home, maybe he can relax. He’s been on edge all day, so there’s no use in trying to distract himself. Especially not in the practice room.

As he turns to leave, the practice door room opens. He blinks, surprised at the sight in front of him. It’s Piper. The gears in his mind are working at a hundred miles an hour, freezing in the center of the practice room.

Her dark hair is messier than it usually is, evident that she’s run her fingers through it countless times. Dark eyelashes frame her eyes, the eye makeup a little darker than what he’s used to. It’s a little unsettling, his eyes tracing along her cheekbones, glitter on her skin. His eyes travel down, a silver moon necklace hanging against her chest. She’s wearing a tight-fitting sheer top, the light pink a stark contrast to her brown skin. Since the top is sheer, it’s see-through, and his mouth goes dry as he sees there’s only a lacy white bralette beneath the top. He tries not to stare, instead looking down at her ripped black jeans and her scuffed Doc Martens.

The practice room feels so much smaller than it usually does. He wonders if the AC turned off because his hands are suddenly clammy and his skin is blazing.

Piper closes the door behind her, leaning against it. Jason hardly even notices how she locks the door, her hand loosely gripping the doorknob behind her. Her eyes lock with his and her gaze is unrelenting. Part of him wants to look away to break the tension, but the fire she’s stirred inside of him wants to challenge her stare. So he doesn’t break eye contact, which seems to please her. She grins, her brown eyes sparkling. His knees feel weak and his fingers tighten around the handle of his violin case.

“Have a nice practice?” she asks, her voice a little raspier than usual. The sound of the edge makes heat flood through his entire body. He realizes it’s rough from the show, given that she sang the entire time.

He doesn’t think he’d be able to form a sentence without stuttering, plus he can feel his heartbeat in his throat, so he nods in response. She crosses her arms across her chest and he tries to focus on anything other than her face. He zeroes in on her chipping black nail polish instead. But alas, he can’t stand silently. She’s evidently waiting for him to say something.

“How was the show?” He internally winces because his voice wobbles and he hopes she doesn’t notice how nervous he sounds.

“It was good.” She shrugs and pushes herself off the door, a step closer to him. “Got paid. It was a good night.”

“That’s… good.” His mind is yelling at him to take a step back because if she comes closer, he’s afraid of doing something stupid. He really doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of her.

“I guess.” She sighs and her gaze is all-consuming. “You should’ve gone. It would’ve been nice to see you.”

Now he’s certain that he’ll lose his cool. The practice room is only so big and if he were to back up, he’d run into the piano. Plus, he doesn’t _want_ her to know how on edge she makes him. He’s concertmaster, he’s supposed to keep his cool.

But this isn’t the orchestra. This is in a practice room at night with Piper. She isn’t the double bass player the orchestra knows— this is frontman Piper, still buzzing with energy from her show. He isn’t in charge of her outside of orchestra functions.

“Why are you here?” The words tumble out before he can think about them. His tone isn’t unkind, but it’s clear he’s confused.

She arches an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” she asks, suddenly defensive.

“You just had a show. You wouldn’t show up to practice after you performed.”

She crosses her arms again, seemingly the one who is cracking under the pressure now. He’s definitely still trying to maintain a level head, but she’s thrown off, clearly unexpecting this question.

“Unless you’re here to see me.” Jason isn’t sure how his voice is so calm when his heart is in his throat.

Her eyes widen at the assumption. It could be his imagination, but she looks like she’s blushing. The sight makes him want to swoon, though he’s sure she’ll punch him in the nose if he were to react in such a way.

“You think I came all the way across town to the music room to see you?” Piper scoffs but Jason can see her faltering. Obviously, nobody’s ever questioned her motives before. He may still be getting to know her, but he can tell she’s the type of girl who doesn’t get questioned for her actions. Or if she does, she knows how to handle them. “You flatter yourself, Jason Grace.”

“It makes sense. I didn’t go to your show, so you came here to see if I was actually practicing.” Jason’s voice goes quiet, watching as her arms uncross. “I, uh, think that’s why you’re here.”

“And what if you’re right?” Piper’s voice holds a challenge. “What if I _did_ come here for you? What if I did want to make sure you weren’t lying to me because you didn’t want to see my show?”

This time, Jason can’t find his voice. His heart is beating rapidly in his throat because as quickly as she had lost her grip, she’s found it again and is turning the tide. Now _he’s_ the mess again and she knows it. She has him right where she wants him. She came here for him and she’s got him very literally cornered in the practice room.

Before he can process what’s going on, she’s stepped even closer and he can’t get air in. Her fingers brush against his, her own hand curling around the handle of his violin case. She doesn’t break eye contact, carefully taking his violin case and setting it on top of the piano behind him. He lets it happen, still not objecting as she takes his binder and sets it beside his violin case.

He isn’t sure what to do as she presses herself up against him, seemingly staring straight into his soul. He’s sure she’s dissecting his personality right in front of him, her gaze picking him apart. But he isn’t sure he has anything to hide from her; if she doesn’t know he’s attracted to her, she must know now. There’s no way his face isn’t blazing red.

Her fingers run through his hair, tangling around the neat strands. Her face gets dangerously close to his and every single seed of doubt implanted in his mind disappears as her lips press to his. He’s imagined kissing her more times than he can count, but this exceeds every expectation he’d had for it.

The kiss is desperate, almost as if she’d imagined it as much as Jason has. Her fingers are no longer running through his hair; she’s tugging now, pulling him incessantly closer. His entire body feels as if it’s on fire and he’s not thinking for himself as his hands reach down, gripping her hips. He hopes she doesn’t mind as he digs his fingers into her hip bones, but then he feels her lips curl up into a grin against his own. Her hands slide down from his hair, tracing her fingertips against the nape of his neck, sending chills down his body.

Every other time he’s been in a compromising situation like this, he’s more or less taken control. He tries to steer her against the wall, given that he towers over her, but she puts her weight against his and resists. He almost pulls away and asks her if she doesn’t want this, but her hands push against his chest. He’s breathless, heat creeping up to the tips of his ears, surprised to see a pleased smirk on her lips. She wordlessly backs him up, practically shoving him to sit on the piano bench. Before he can say something, she climbs on top of him, straddling his hips as she smashes her lips back against his.

His body has a mind of its own, his hands settling on her hips. Her shirt bunches up as he does that, one hand gripping the soft skin of her side, wanting to melt because her skin is just as soft as he pictured it. The pads of his fingers have roughened over time due to putting pressure on the strings, a stark contrast to her skin. For a second, he thinks of the irony between his calloused hands against her sides; she’s the one with a hard exterior yet she’s the one who feels like silk beneath his fingertips.

She moves her lips away from his, trailing chaste kisses down until she’s kissing his neck. He can’t help himself and he moans.

_Fuck, I’m so glad the practice rooms are soundproof._

Piper’s finger tangle in Jason’s hair, gripping the soft strands as she begins to suck on his skin. His breathing is ragged, feeling how her lips move against his neck… _Fuck._

As concertmaster, he should be pushing her off. Practice rooms are meant for practice. Kissing in one seems to violate all sorts of unwritten rules. It seems to be tainting the purpose of a practice room, a place where beautiful music is made. He should be chastising her for kissing him in the first place.

But Jason wants this to happen. And he wants to kiss her.

Her hands run down his chest and although it’s not skin-to-skin contact, goosebumps still form on his arms. Once her hands stop against his belt, her lips are back on his. If he had any complaints, he wouldn’t be able to verbalize them. Good thing he’s not complaining.

He’s still hesitant about kissing in a practice room, but his own wants overcome all anxiety he feels about this situation. He slides his hand beneath her shirt and his breath hitches when his fingers graze against the lacy material of her bralette.

She pulls away and her eyes meet his. He half expects for her to tell him to stop yet she’s smirking. There’s an unspoken challenge written on her face, almost as if she doesn’t think he’ll do anything about it.

Jason does something about it. He slips his fingers beneath the bralette, immediately tracing circles over her nipple with his thumb. For the first time, Piper reacts. She inhales sharply and leans forward, her lips reattaching to his neck. He tries to focus on the task at hand, well aware she’s not holding back from marking him up.

While one hand stays beneath her bralette, he moves his other hand down, working on unbuttoning her jeans. If she doesn’t want him to take control, she doesn’t show it, not reacting to the button giving way and him pulling down the zipper. His heart is beating in his throat as he slips his hand inside her jeans, moving his fingers against her panties (which from the feel of them, he guesses they’re lacy like her bralette, _Jesus_ ). He doesn’t waste time; he moves the fabric aside and slides two fingers in.

When she moans, his jeans feel tighter than usual, blood rushing to his face and between his own legs. He curls his fingers and moves them in and out of her at a tantalizing pace, expressing through his actions how unsettled she’s made him.

If he hadn’t been unsettled before, he certainly is unsettled now. Her moans put even Beethoven’s masterpieces to shame. Not just Beethoven, but every single piece he’s ever played suddenly feels insignificant to how her moans sound to him. If this was a song, he’d put it on repeat. He should have known; her singing voice is perfect, so he should’ve guessed her moans are just as beautiful. But he just didn’t anticipate for her moans to be _this_ wonderful to listen to.

Piper’s reaction sends Jason on an adrenaline high. Just weeks ago, he’d thought she was untouchable, that nothing could ever force her to crack. She reigns an aura of authority, one not even Jason could challenge. Yet here he is, two of his fingers knuckle-deep inside of her, her moans muffled against his neck, and he feels as if he’s finally conquered the unstoppable.

Between shallow gasps for air, Piper whispers as she nibbles on his earlobe, “They always said violinists were good with their fingers.”

Jason almost whimpers at how she sounds, but the compliment rejuvenates him. He risks slipping in another finger and notices how her moans suddenly rise an octave. He _is_ good with his fingers, he realizes; he’s never had trouble hitting the right notes.

He almost wants to continue this until she becomes overcome with pleasure, or her moans get even louder, but apparently it isn’t what she had planned. She pushes against his chest, which immediately causes him to still his fingers inside of her. He looks up at her face and she’s already looking down at him.

“Enough teasing,” is all she says and he takes this as a cue to remove his fingers.

He doesn’t move his eyes away from hers and once he pulls his fingers out of her jeans, she removes one hand from his shoulder and reaches into her back pocket. His eyes stray down, admiring how nice her ass looks in those jeans, suddenly snapped back to the moment when she pulls out a small silver square from her pocket. It takes him a moment to realize she’s holding a condom.

“You were planning this?” he demands, hating how strained his voice is.

She arches an eyebrow. “You weren’t?”

His throat grows dry. “No,” he answers. It isn’t a lie. He hadn’t planned this. He’d thought about kissing her, sure, but having sex with her… That had been in the _you wish_ category and it certainly hadn’t been on his to-do list for today.

This is also in a practice room. Jason’s go-to practice room where he’d suffered triumphs and defeats and frustrations and angry staccato and soft pizzicato and melodies and crumpled sheet music and the smell of rosin. Now Piper McLean is straddling his hips and he’s pretty sure their kissing had transferred the splotchy glitter on her cheeks onto his skin and the collar of his sweater is wrinkled and he’s pretty certain she left hickeys all over his neck and there’s a condom in her hand and she’s staring at him, waiting for him to give her permission to continue. Every cell in Jason’s body should be telling him to stop.

For some reason, Jason tells himself yes as he tilts his head up and captures Piper’s lips with his own.

This is all she needs to continue. She shifts on top of him, one hand working to move her jeans down her thighs as they kiss. Something heavy hits the ground, quickly followed by another _thud_ identical to the first, and although Jason doesn’t break away, he knows she kicked away her boots. And as soon as her boots are off, so are her jeans. His hands move down slightly, brushing against the lacy material. His mouth feels dry as her tongue runs along his bottom lip.

As Piper’s fingers move down to work on the button of Jason’s jeans, she mumbles into his mouth, “Is this okay?”

 _This is more than okay._ “Yeah,” he breathes as she pulls down his zipper. He leans heavily against the piano behind him, knowing he should be uncomfortable but he can’t concentrate on anything other than her fingers brushing against the bulge in his jeans. “I’m okay.”

He isn’t sure how she can move her fingers so expertly with the condom still in her hand, but she does. She unzips his jeans as far down as they go, opting to keep them on before swiping down his boxers. She locks eyes with him and he can’t help himself— he kisses her. It’s all too soft for this moment of undressing, but she reciprocates.

The kiss doesn’t last long. She pulls away and tears the condom wrapper open with her teeth, setting the wrapper on the piano behind him before rolling the condom onto him. Just the feeling of her fingers brushing against him is enough to make him groan and he sees the smirk on her lips. He wants to kiss her until _he’s_ smirking but she’s suddenly pushing the fabric of her panties aside and sinking down on top of him and even if he were to try, he wouldn’t be able to get her back.

Even though this feels great, he selfishly wishes there weren’t clothes in his way. His hands move down to grab her ass, the fabric of her panties bunching up beneath his fingers, and he hates how he can’t feel every inch of her skin. Although her chest is pressed against his, all he feels is his sweater and the occasional brush of her shirt.

But Jason can’t focus on what he can’t have. He tries to keep his eyes open as Piper moves on top of him, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly. If he was shirtless, he’d be able to feel her nails against his skin, and—

_Stop. At least this is even happening._

And it _is_ happening. This feeling is too good to be a product of Jason’s dreams. The way she’s moaning, how her hips roll up and down… His imagination lacks the creativity to curate a fever dream _this_ amazing. He’s also not creative enough to imagine they’d be fooling around in the practice room on the piano bench.

She moans his name and he buries his face against her neck. He isn’t as bold as her, choosing to kiss her skin instead of leaving marks, no matter how much he wants to. He tries to focus on delaying his fast upcoming orgasm and her breathy moans of his name aren’t helping the cause. Maybe if he focuses on leaving kisses on her neck, he can hold on.

When it’s almost too much to bear, he pulls away and looks at her face. Her eyebrows are knit together, her bottom lip between her teeth, a strand of her hair falling against her neck. Nothing about this situation is cute or domestic, but the look on her face is just as adorable as it is unbelievably sexy.

Before Jason can ponder whether his actions don’t fit the mood, he moves one hand from Piper’s ass and brushes the piece of hair away from her face. Her eyes burn into his and he swallows his nerves to brush his thumb against her bottom lip, freeing it from between her teeth. Before he does anything else stupid, he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her face against his, trapping her in another kiss.

He isn’t quite sure how he lasts longer than her. He can feel her chest press even closer to his and he wonders hazily if not for their clothes, he’d be able to feel her heartbeat against his own. Her lips curl back against his own and he takes this as a cue to pull away. He’s glad he does— her eyelids flutter and her skin blazes like an open flame beneath his fingertips. Her lips form a perfect o and her moans fill the room. Watching her fall apart on top of him is what sends him over the edge and he reaches his own orgasm as she hits hers.

In many, if not most, pieces Jason’s played, the composer usually places a perfect crescendo towards the finale. The symphony gradually grows louder and louder until it hits its peak, all the instruments playing as loud as possible, the climax to the notes and shifts and once the crescendo hits, the concert hall grows eerily silent. He’s heard it hundreds of times before. Yet there’s something different about this crescendo; their moans stop after they reach their respective orgasms and all he can hear is their heavy breathing. His heart is pounding in his ears and Piper’s head falls against his shoulder, her arms slung over his shoulders.

This embrace is unfamiliar. It doesn’t feel right for what just happened. As Jason’s breathing slows and goes back to its normal rhythm, he wonders why Piper is holding onto him as tightly as she is. Then again, he’s clinging onto her as well.

It’s over just as soon as he stops questioning it. She detangles her arms from around him, pulling herself away from him and standing up. His gaze unintentionally falls to her bare legs, wishing they were back on either side of him. As he watches, she picks up her jeans and forces them onto her legs. He doesn’t want her to catch him staring, so he carefully takes off the condom, tying it off before throwing it away in the trash can beside the piano. He’ll have to throw the whole trash bag away to avoid people seeing the condom, he reminds himself as he pulls up his boxers and zips up his jeans.

“When are we meeting up again?” Piper asks casually as she steps into her boots.

Jason freezes, blinking heavily as he stares at her. “Again?” he asks, his voice raspy from moaning.

“Yeah.” Piper looks confused as she stands, adjusting her wrinkled top. When he stares blankly at her, she rolls her eyes. “For practice.”

“Oh.” He hates to feel disappointment well in his chest and he tries to keep his face neutral. “We can do Monday.”

“Sounds good to me.” She brushes her fingers through her messy hair and Jason can see the glitter on her cheeks have been transferred all over her face. She raises an eyebrow at him and asks casually, “Can this happen outside of a practice room next time? A piano bench isn’t my ideal spot.”

“N-next time?” Jason’s face heats up and he hopes he isn’t blushing.

“Did you really think this was a one time thing?” She sighs and suddenly looks worried. “Unless you don’t want to do this again.”

“No!” He shakes his head rapidly. “No, I, uh, I want to do this again. If you want to, of course.”

The ghost of a smirk forms on her lips. “Then Monday. After we practice.”

“Monday,” he repeats, head in a daze as she tries to smooth out her shirt one last time. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you later, Jason.” She flashes him one last smile before turning around, unlocking the door and slipping out. The door clicks shut behind her and he’s left alone.

It takes him a few moments to come to his bearings and realize how late it must be. He stands up, making sure the practice room looks as it should before grabbing his violin case and his music binder. He also grabs the trash bag, biding one last look to the practice before leaving, coming to terms with himself that he will never be able to look at this room, or any practice room, the same again.

When Jason finally gets home, hickeys on his neck and traces of glitter on his own skin, he comes to terms with another thing— he likes Piper. He likes her a _lot._ Every rational cell in his body is urging him to stop the sex before his feelings grow, but he decides to be irrational for once in his life.

 **to Piper McLean [12:03am]:** _Actually, are you down for a Saturday practice?_

 **from Piper McLean [12:05am]:** _i don’t need to practice w my bass_

 **from Piper McLean [12:05am]:** _parking lot? i have a big backseat_

 **to Piper McLean [12:06am]:** _8pm work for you?_

 **from Piper McLean [12:06am]:** _see u then_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **We only met each other just the other day  
>  But you already got me feeling some type of way  
> Now if I could figure it out  
> I'd take you back to my house  
> So we could meddle about **
> 
> the song for this chapter is meddle about by chase atlantic.  
> ...so we really went 0-100 in comparison to chapter one, huh? i hope all of you guys enjoyed it. as always, my tumblr is open for questions and lil extras about this fic, so don't hesitate to go on (same url as my username on here) and talk to me about this! thanks for reading, friends! 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see more content for this and all other works, go to my tumblr @jasonsmclean for questions, aesthetics, and moodboards.


End file.
